At the Edge of the World
by despondent
Summary: [Severitus] A revealed secret brings about pain and anger. No one is happy. [AU, rated T for language and violence, no slash]
1. on secrets

At the edge of the World

**By: Despondent**

**-**

Chapter 1

**On secrets**

_"It's a lie! He cannot be my father!"_

**-**

Sixteen year old Harry Potter, soon to be seventeen, had his eyes glued to the black, flickering digits of his alarm clock. It was a battered alarm clock, cheap, plastic, and on the verge of being considered 'obsolete', but it was his, nevertheless, a gift from his relatives. No doubt that Aunt Petunia gave it to ensure his constant punctuality and prevent him from 'slacking off his chores', as she put it.

The digits continued flickering. _Just a few seconds more_, Harry whispered softly to himself. His annual, unofficial countdown to his birthday greeted July the 31st in every single year of his pretty miserable life. However, this year, his heart was not really into it. He still did it anyway, perhaps in his desperation to cling on to the norm, to grab on to something methodical and repetitive and familiar.

_There, I am seventeen_, Harry whispered once more, with a slight bitter satisfaction. Satisfaction in the fact that despite Voldemort's unremitting attempts on his life, he had survived once more, which was pretty good, in his opinion, because well… Voldemort was a Dark Lord after all, and a damn good one, at that.

The bitterness was there, because of Sirius.

_What did I do?_ Harry asked himself, in what must have been the umpteenth self-inflicted verbal attack. _I was foolish, rash, overly Gryffindor… _It was his fault, and Harry knew it. There was no use trying to blame someone else, there was no real need in self delusion because the truth was so garishly obvious that he did not need Hermoine to berate him.

Sirius died, it was Harry's fault, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Except… to fight back…

That was the only way that Harry could adopt to avenge Sirius's death, the one way that could help him appease his own, ever-present guilt, and it was also, most probably, his only lifeline to liberation. Once Voldemort was gone, he was free, free to do anything possible. No more Order members tailing him, no more secrets, no more deaths and no more fear. At this point, Harry remembered something. Professor Lupin's words suddenly popped up in his brain.

_"The one thing you fear is fear itself."_

The first few weeks of his summer had been spent in a constant flurry of books and chores. His relatives had taken heed to the Order's advice, much to the chagrin of his Uncle Dursley, who had muttered furiously under his breath, "Freaks, the whole lot of you, how dare you challenge me…" However, he did not voice it out and Harry did not laugh. Not much made him laugh these days, and instead, he chose to stare at his Uncle, watching detachedly as the latter's face turned from a shade of puce to a deep burgundy.

Uncle Dursley, that night, had attempted a strained smile at his nephew, but the supposed look of amicability just turned sour and his Uncle's face had looked- with uncanny resemblance- like a prune. He had given up after that, and stuck to looking civil, which meant that he completely ignored Harry.

Aunt Petunia, with another forced smile, had heaped some food on his plate. It was not more than she usually gave him. With her screechy voice, she had informed him, "I'm not scared of those friends," she said this word with a sneer, "of yours." This uncharacteristic show of boldness left Harry a little stunned, but he shrugged it off and began his dinner.

The dinner was dead silent, and Harry knew it was because of his mere presence. Dudley, his cousin, was still shaking in his enormous pants and was too scared to say a word. Aunt Petunia did not speak; instead, she just sighed and piled on more food onto his plate, rubbing his shoulders in a motherly gesture. Uncle Vernon did not look up from his plate. Instead, he continued muttering furiously under his breath.

Finally, dinner was over. Harry had finished first, seeing that his portion was the smallest, (over-boiled cabbages mixed with a few pieces of burnt meat) and he got up from his chair.

"I'm finished," he said coolly. His voice was low and emotionless. "I'll be going up to my room. Don't worry, I won't bother you."

Dudley heaved an audible sigh of relief. Uncle Vernon's complexion cleared. Aunt Petunia pursed her lips.

Harry turned, and was about to go up when his Aunt spoke. "Boy, don't go yet. I've got something for you," she said. She got up and walked to the fridge, where she pulled a scrap of paper that was placed under a magnet saying 'DUDLEY'. (They had got it custom-made last year.) She thrust it to Harry roughly.

"It's your chores for tomorrow, Boy," she snapped, "and don't think you can just laze off. You had better earn your keep here; your Uncle does not print money."

Uncle Vernon started to turn a little pale at her words. "Erm…" he stuttered, "Petunia, those freaks at the station…" His words were squeaky now.

"Vernon, I told you, there's nothing to be afraid of. They won't hurt us," she said, before turning to Harry again. "I expect them to be done before dinner."

Harry sneered. "Of course, Aunt Petunia," he said, spitefully, "I wouldn't want to rip a bigger hole in your pocket. Why with Dudley around…" Without waiting for a reply, he had bolted up the staircase, not staying to gloat over Uncle Vernon's now maroon face and Aunt Petunia's screeching shouts of anger.

The chore list had been long, a lot more than usual, and it never shortened subsequently, but Harry completed them faithfully anyway. He knew he needn't have, all he had to do was to send a letter to the Order and they would come, knocking on the door. However, he still did them. The chores were mindless, backbreaking, physical, and tiring, but he quite enjoyed them. It kept his mind of things.

The rest of his nights had been spent in books. Burrowing his head into thick tomes, Harry had committed himself to a studying frenzy that could have left Hermoine cold. It was as though he was making up for five years of studying- or the lack of it, and he had begun very systematically.

First, he revised his previous years work. This proved to be quite useful, much to his surprise, because he had never really bothered about the theory and the basics behind the subject.

Subsequently, he had delved into more specialized and advanced books, and he found that the theory helped him to understand them much better than he would have normally. He practiced spells with a stick he had saved from the garden, and he did the imaginary wand work with the flick of his wrists and the whisper of words.

It was all to fight back.

Harry's eyes flicked to his alarm clock again. It read, very clearly, **12.02am**He had been seventeen for two whole minutes. He smiled a tense, stretched, smile. Hedwig was out hunting, or maybe getting his letters, but he doubted it. Professor Dumbledore had sent him a short note at the beginning of the holiday, informing him of his postal changes. He had wanted to shred the letter into tiny, irrevocable pieces, but he didn't. Instead, he used the letter to bookmark his pages.

_Dear Harry, _

_It pains me to tell you this. I know that the last year has been hard on and perhaps I was nowhere as truthful as I should have been, but I have only one thing to say- you must move on, Harry._

_Don't grieve for Sirius; he would not have wanted you to do that. _

_Perhaps you are still angry at me, for not informing you of the prophecy earlier but I just want to tell you that I did what I thought were best for you and nothing more._

_I'm afraid that this will most probably be the last letter you receive this summer, or for a substantial amount of time. With Voldemort out on the loose, we cannot afford to have him tracking your letters and reading its content. Instead, I will keep the letters your friends send you and return them to you when the term starts. _

_In addition, I would like to caution you- or to plead with you- not to stray outside your relative's garden. Please do not leave the compound! We are very busy and don't have anyone spare. If you leave, there is nothing that will stop you, except that you will further endanger the lives of a few people, and not just your own._

_For these, I aplogise, but there is nothing that I can do about it- your safety is my priority._

_Have a happy holiday, Harry._

_Professor Dumbledore_

Yes, he could certain, much to his bitterness, that Hedwig was not receiving letters but rather, hunting rats in some obscure place. She would be free, flying in the air, unhindered, unstopped, while he was stuck in this hellhole.

Manipulative Dumbledore! Saying those words- _'endanger the lives of a few people, and not just your own'_… Knowing all too well that the Gryffindor in Harry and his 'saving people thing' would not allow him to stray from Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Fuck him," Harry whispered.

But Harry hadn't left the compound.

Harry looked at the clock again. **12.07am**. Harry was pensive for a moment. He was now seventeen, a legal wizard, and what changes would that bring?

Suddenly, there was a bang. The door swung open and Harry instantly whipped out his wand. His heart was racing wildly. Who was it? He whirled around at a near impossible speed and brandished his wand in front of him threateningly, the tip glistening with unspoken power. He was about to yell out a curse- any curse- when he said who it was.

"Oh," he muttered.

It was Remus Lupin, grey haired, pale skin, tweed shirt and dark eye bags. There was an object in his hand, and Harry realised that it was a circular disc of some sort. He stared at it questioningly.

"Portkey," Remus explained hurriedly, seeing Harry's curiosity, "but we don't have time. This will activate in precisely," he paused to look at his watch, which was a worn out leather-strapped one, "two seconds, so your questions will have to wait."

Harry did not have anything to say, because at that moment, Remus grabbed his hand and they both disappeared in a flash of brilliant, blinding white light.

-

Harry opened his eyes. He was at an unfamiliar place, he did not recognize it. All he saw was the whiteness of the ceiling, a pristine, virginal white. _Not the Order Headquarters,_ he mused. _The Blacks quite evidently hated white._ He remembered the headquarters, with his dark and foreboding furniture and its matching walls, ceilings and floors.

It was then when he realised that Remus Lupin was peering right at him. It took him another few seconds to register the fact that he was lying on the floor, and that Remus Lupin had been staring at him for the good part of a minute.

"Harry? Are you all right?" Professor Lupin sounded concern and anxious.

Harry sat up, somewhat groggily. His head seemed to spin and it hurt a little. He faltered for a moment before replying, "I'm fine… I think. What happened?"

Professor Lupin, who had miraculously churned up a piece of honeydukes chocolate, passed it to Harry. "Well, it's my fault, actually. After we reached here, I let go off your hand and-"

Harry got the idea. "And I fell, hit my head, gained a bruise and became a little dizzy?" He was not in a good mood. Being whisked out of your room suddenly, near midnight, without warning, did wonders for your temper.

Remus nodded his head apologetically. "I'm really sorry…" his voice trailed off, "but I thought you were you know, steady on your feet."

Harry ignored it. Instead, he stood up, a little shakily, but slowly, his weight evened out between the soles of his two feet. He stared at Professor Lupin. "Professor Lupin, will it be too much to enquire exactly where I am and what I am doing here?"

Remus looked stunned for a moment, as though he did not expect such acerbity coming from Harry's mouth. It was unlike the Gryffindor boy to be so sarcastic- that was a trait usually associated to Slytherins, and Snape in particular. However, he ignored his surprise. Instead, he cleared his throat. "I'm not very sure myself. I wasn't given much detail too, except that Professor Dumbledore wanted to see you. I'm not sure about what."

It was Harry's turn to look disbelieving. "You are telling me, that I was dragged out of my room, on my birthday to speak to Professor Dumbledore?"

Remus pursed his lips. "Well… yes… but... it could be urgent…" Even to him, that sounded weak.

"Right, Professor, so urgent that the first place I go to, after being locked in my relative's house for a month, is to some unknown place to see Professor Dumbledore, who pulled me out suddenly, out of the blue, without informing me."

Remus was speechless. This was certainly not the Harry he knew. The Harry he knew was more innocent, lovable, friendlier… He was certainly nothing like the bitter, sarcastic, biting Snape-sound-alike standing before him. "Well, it's not an unknown place exactly. It's… it's… Snape Manor, I believe."

"I'm at Snape Manor!"

Remus ignored him. "Yes, I believe so, it's either Snape Manor or its Snape Lodge, or it could be Snake Tower, but I'm not too sure. You'll have to ask Severus." Remus paused. "But anyways, you don't even have a greeting for me?"

Harry stiffened for a moment, as though he had been struck, but he loosened again, much to Remus's relief, and then, he smiled. "I'm sorry Professor; I was just… carried away..."

Remus Lupin smiled back. It was a genuine smile that spread across his face, and it made him look a lot younger. It seemed as though his wrinkles disappeared, and the grey strands in his hair were suddenly dwarfed by the brown ones. His eyes twinkled, very alike Professor Dumbledore's. "Take a seat, Harry," he said, as he pointed to a few chairs that suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Harry sat down. The chair was simple, brown with a slight padding for the bottom. Not particularly elaborate.

"How are you Harry?" Remus asked kindly. "Professor Dumbledore told us that we were not to send you any letters, and you were not to send us any. I haven't heard from you for awhile… How are the muggles treating you?"

Harry turned his face away, so that Remus could only see the side of it. He did not want the elder man to see the anger in his eyes. "The muggles have been fine," Harry said calmly, his words not betraying any emotion, "they are too afraid to do anything."

Remus surveyed him critically. "You've grown taller," he said finally, "but it seems as though you've put on some muscle. Growing to be quite the muscle man eh?" he joked.

Harry laughed softly. "It's a long awaited growth spurt, I think," he replied. "Thankfully… I'm tired of only reaching Ron's shoulder!"

Remus laughed. His voice was clear, like glass, and it was full of warmth. Harry, when he heard it, softened and felt instantly better- and happier. "Why are we still here?"

Remus grimaced. "Well… it's because a certain person didn't want us 'ravaging around my house like hippogriffs'. That person was quite certain that 'Potter will damage what's left of my ancestry with his Gryffindor clumsiness and foolishness'." Remus mimicked Snape's low slur. "So we're stuck here, as assigned to by our wonderful host, who has appointed this room as the waiting area."

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. Remus had mimicked Snape nearly perfectly.

They settled into a comfortable silence. Harry was happy. It was enough that he was out of Privet Drive, never mind that he had been so abruptly pulled out of his relative's house. The anger had worn off and he was just contented to stay here, in a different room for once.

Finally, he spoke again. "Professor, how has things been going?"

Remus looked at him, confused.

"With the… war..." Harry clarified hesitantly.

Remus became solemn at once. His smile became grim and he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder comfortingly. He looked away. "It has been fine so far. I think that Voldemort is lying low, just bidding his time."

Harry turned to Remus. "Has there been any attacks- any attacks whatsoever- or any mysterious disappearances?" Harry's voice, meant to sound calm or curious, came out panicked and breathless. Harry looked at Remus Lupin intently, and when Remus stared into his bright green eyes- the emerald green that Lily eyes had been- he saw fear. A fear clouded by other indefinable emotions, but fear, nevertheless.

"No," Remus said finally. "Has something happened?"

Harry looked frantic for a moment, but it suddenly disappeared. "No, everything's fine. Everything's fine."

-

Professor Dumbledore came in, a few moments later. He was carrying, in his hand, an envelope. He looked a little flustered but there was a smile on his face, a small smile, and nowhere as brilliant as his smiles usually were.

"Remus," he said hesitantly, "I'm afraid you can't stay."

Remus turned slightly pale, and for a moment, he looked indignant. "But Professor, you know I won't leak secrets or anything…"

Professor Dumbledore sighed. "Your loyalty is not in question, Remus, do not fear. I have full faith in you, its just that what I'm about to speak of its highly confidential and it is best if no one, with the exception of three people, should know of it."

Remus looked wearied. "And who are these three people? You, Harry and…?"

It was then when the door swung open, banging against the wall and rebounding wildly. Standing through the door frame was Severus Snape.

Remus looked aghast. "Severus? The third person is Severus?"

"Yes," Professor Dumbledore nodded, "and I really need you to leave the room, Remus." Remus grudgingly got up from his chair and left the room. He did not turn back once, and he slammed the door shut. It was an uncharacteristic show of anger.

Professor Dumbledore turned to the Harry and Professor Snape. "Severus, take a seat." Severus sneered but sat down anyway. "Now," he continued, "we need to talk."

Severus Snape was the one who spoke up first. The Potions Professor of Hogwarts looked irritated. "Albus, I do not understand what this matter," he waved his hand, "has got anything to do with me. I do not understand why I have to be here with," he paused and his sneer deepened, "Potter." The word was spat out. "Especially at one in the morning, Albus… This is ridiculous."

Harry looked up from his lap. He was tired of being ignored, he was tired of being misinformed, and he was tired of Snape's conniving attitude and behaviour. "It is not as though I wanted to be here any more than you do," he snapped, furious, "and Professor, what in Merlin's name is going on? What is so damn urgent," he continued sarcastically, "that you've broken your own rules to bring me out of Privet Drive?"

"Ah, I see that the spoilt Gryffindor boy has spoken. This place cannot compare with the luxury of your home right?" Severus drawled, "Why am I not surprise? And it is not unlike a Gryffindor," he curled his lip, "to hate rules."

"Let me assure you, Professor, that you know less about me than you think, so you should stop making blind assumptions." This was said very coldly and for a few seconds, Severus Snape shuddered.

"Stop this right now," Professor Dumbledore said sternly, "we don't have time for your petty spats. Something very important has cropped up." He drew out the envelope.

It was a dusty brown, as though it had been kept for very long. The paper was made of hard material and did not crinkle. It was a yellowish-brown, tainted by age, and there was a faint musky odour. "I found this on my table yesterday. I have no idea how it got there, but I suspect that I was meant to find it yesterday."

"I don't see what this has to do with me… and him," Professor Snape said.

"There is a letter inside. I have it here, let me read it out for you."

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_If you are reading this, it means that we are dead, James and I. It is with my deepest regret that we have to write this, for I would have greatly wished to tell you this face to face. _

_This is a matter of the most serious, and I plead with you to take me seriously. I may sound incoherent and even insane, but Professor, I assure you that what I say is genuine and the complete truth. _

_Harry… My dear Harry… _

_Professor, there is no way I can break this out in a manner that will not stun or horrify. I shall be blunt, I shall keep it simple._

_James was not my first love, Professor, and I think you suspect that. I had another lover before that, one that I was with for quite some time in Hogwarts, ever since our fifth year. I broke up with him, in the middle of my seventh year, because of some unforgivable thing he had done, but by then, it was too late. I was pregnant._

_I time-locked the baby in my womb, I knew that there was no way I could have the child in Hogwarts. I never told the father. I married James shortly after, and rest assured, I do love James and it wasn't some rabid plot that I concocted to save my hide. I told James the truth, and he was horrified, but he agreed to let me have the child and to raise the child as his own. I undid the time lock and I had my child… I had my Harry._

_I must be dead by now. My greatest sorrow is that I never had a chance to see Harry grow, and that I never had the opportunity to be with him. I am uncertain of where Harry lives, or has resided in for the past seventeen years. If he is living with his godfather or Remus or even Peter, don't take him away from them. However, if they are dead, for some reason, or unable to take care of Harry, please return him to his father._

_I believe, I truly do believe that Harry's father remains a good person. This has been proven, many times over, after my graduation, and I know that he will take care of Harry with all his heart. _

_You might wonder why I time spelled this letter to arrive on your desk only after seventeen years. The truth is simple. I have no idea when the war will end, and James and I decided to leave a wide berth, just in case. I know that you will leave Harry in hands of either Sirius or Remus or Peter, and I trust them to love Harry as we do and to raise him with all their care. We are not worried that Harry will grow up unhappy; we know that you will ensure his happiness. _

_My time is running short. There is a limit to time-spelled letters, if you believe it or not. I have attached some individual letters with this one, and if you would, please pass them to the respective parties. I will end this letter here. _

_You wonder who the father is, I will tell you now. The father is Severus Snape. _

_Thank you, Professor, and I will like to thank you for everything you've ever done for me and James. Your council was invaluable and we will forever respect you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Lily Potter_

The silence that followed was deafening. It was broken by one particular person. The words spoken were hysterical, panicked, horrified, and disbelieving.

"It's a lie! He cannot be my father!"

-

End of Chapter 1

-

Next up:

**Chapter 2**

**On blood**

_"He cannot stay with me- and that's final."_

-

**A/N-**

First chapter finished! Please review! The rate at which I update, or the decision whether to even continue the story depends on response!


	2. on blood

At the edge of the World

**By: Despondent**

**-**

Chapter 2

**On blood**

_"He cannot stay with me- and that's final."_

**-**

Severus Snape, Potions Master, winner of countless potions-related awards including the prestigious 'Young Budding Potions Master Award' smiled. There was a hint of amusement in his face. "Albus, surely you don't expect me to believe that? Surely you don't believe that!"

"For once, I agree with Professor," Harry sneered, so that he sounded very much like his professor did, "Snape. It is impossible… absurd… how can I be his son? Everyone tells me I look like James Potter."

"You act like him too. You are equally as arrogant, spoilt, rash, foolish..."

Professor Dumbledore ignored their petulant argument. Instead, he looked carefully at the parchment, and then finally, walking towards the one window in the room, he lifted the parchment towards the sun and stared at it careful, his eyes screwed up in concentration. He was searching for something- and then, he found it. Sighing, he walked back.

"I had my doubts too. There were too many holes, too many. Lily was quite evidently, in a hurry," Professor Dumbledore smiled sadly, "for she left out some details. One detail that she left out is how she made you look like James."

Professor Snape snorted. "Lily was good in charms, Albus, nothing was too difficult for her to achieve. All she needed was access to a couple of restricted books."

"Yes, I agree. It is not hard. There are a few charms you can cast, and even a few potions you can take. But there is one problem- how did she make the charm last?"

There was silence for a moment. Only the ticking of the wizarding clock, hung on the plastered wall, could be heard.

"That settles it, doesn't it, Albus? So may I leave? Since we seem to have found the loophole is this bizarre and utterly unbelievable letter, that is no doubt the result of some prankster, I shall take me leave. I have a potion to brew and it requires maximum concentration and precise timing," Severus said, as he stood up.

"Wait. Sit," Professor Dumbledore ordered, quietly. "But the letter- it's genuine. I know for sure that it was sent by James and Lily Potter, about seventeen years ago."

"That's impossible!" Harry snapped, "He cannot be my father!"

"But it is. There is a creed."

There was another stunned silence this time. Harry turned to look at Professor Snape, who was staring at Professor Dumbledore with incredulous eyes. He looked beyond stunned, he looked flabbergasted- horrified, and his mouth was agape in a very unlike him manner. His hands were paused in mid-air, and he seemed to have forgotten about them. For a moment, Harry saw his fingers- thin, spindly, elegant fingers, curved slightly- and he looked away.

Professor Snape seemed to understand what was going on, but Harry did not. He hated it when people talked about things he did not understand; it made him feel inadequate. _What the heck is a creed?_ There seemed to be an obvious implication because Professor Snape looked aghast while Professor Dumbledore just looked somber.

"What, in Merlin's name, is a creed?" Harry broke the silence.

"The creed, Potter," Professor Snape said, "is a symbol that has just ruined my life and has just darkened the bleak visages of it."

"Harry, each noble and pureblooded family, like the Potters, the Blacks, the Snapes, they have their own creed, a motif if you like. It is used to engrave their stationary, especially their letters, and it can only be used by someone of the Potter blood, either by birth or by marriage and there is a creed on this letter. It's a watermark," Professor Dumbledore said sadly.

"No," Harry breathed heavily, his body starting to shake and his eyes alit with anger, disbelief, "NO! That's… that's…. impossible," he breathed once more.

"But it's true, and there's nothing we can do about it. There are several changes we need to make immediately," Professor Dumbledore said, in a sudden authoritative manner, "you can't stay at the Dursley's anymore."

"Because I finally have another living blood relative?" Harry said coldly. He had not forgiven Dumbledore for placing him under the loveless care of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. His lump of a cousin, whose bullying antics left Harry scarred, did not help either.

"Partly, but mainly because the wards have fallen," Dumbledore said.

"WHAT?" Harry yelled.

"They fell exactly on the stroke of minute on the 31st of July on your seventeenth birthday. I have several theories behind this and I can almost certain the accuracy of one of them," Dumbledore said cryptically.

"Albus, I am a little curious. Why did the wards fall? I thought that the wards were controlled by the blood bond between Harry and his," Severus Snape sneered, "muggle relatives? That is, assuming that his relatives are alive…"

"Yes, that is true. Lily's sacrifice ensured that as long as Harry considered Privet Drive his home, he would be given protection- _as long as he considered it his home_."

Severus Snape and Harry registered Professor Dumbledore's statement.

"And as of today, when Harry came of age, he no longer considered Privet Drive his home and the wards subsequently collapsed. That was the reason why I sent Remus to pick you up, that rather than talk to you, but I have to admit, the news was rather pressing and still is."

There was that silence again, the unnerving silence. This time, two things could be heard- the ticking of the clock, and the slight thumping of feet running up the stairs.

"I hated them," Harry said hollowly. "I hated them so fucking much and you made me stay there. I will never forgive you for putting me there, Professor- never."

There was more silence.

Finally, Albus Dumbledore spoke up. "I had to do what I had to do, Harry, it was all for your own good."

Harry did not reply. Instead, he stared out of the solitary window. There was a clear picture of the top of a tree. The green foliage was rustling slightly, it was a windy day, and the branches with the leaves swayed with the breeze.

Albus Dumbledore, seeing that he was not going to get a reply from Harry, turned to face Severus Snape instead. "We need to find suitable housing for Harry. He cannot stay at Hogwarts, I'm afraid, and the Headquarters is out of the question, ever since Kreacher left."

"Why can't I stay at Hogwarts?" Harry asked finally.

"There's no one there," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling slightly, "although the wards could hold you. I believe that the teachers are on holiday. Minerva is visiting her relatives, Filius is taking a short break at a beach and-"

"I get the picture," Harry cut in.

"You have to stay here, at Snape Manor," Dumbledore said with finality.

"No," Severus Snape said flatly. "He cannot stay with me- and that's final."

"I don't want to stay with him!" Harry shouted, nearly simultaneously.

"Professor, there is no way I am going to allow him to stay here! He will ruin the house! Do you know how many generations of Snapes have resided here? He will defile this place!" Severus Snape continued, ignoring Harry.

"I have no intention of staying with him! Why can't I stay with someone I like for once? Why can't I stay with… Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, speaking furiously and rapidly.

"Yes, why can't he stay with that mangy werewolf?" Professor Snape asked.

"SILENCE!" Professor Dumbledore roared suddenly. His eyes were glinting furiously, not with amusement but anger, and his lips were turned downwards in a frown.

Professor Snape and Harry shut up instantly, Professor Dumbledore's outburst stunning them into silence.

"You think I like this arrangement better than you do? It is unsafe, but there is no choice, you understand!" Professor Dumbledore snapped. "There is no other place, in London, that is safer than Hogwarts, but the one place that comes close is Snape Manor! I do not have the patience to listen to your childishness!" Professor Dumbledore sounded furious. For the first time, Harry realised the toll that the war had on Professor Dumbledore.

"But Albus," Severus dared, "Draco and Narcissa… they are coming here within the next few days, to stay."

"There is nothing that can be done about it. We have to hasten his changes. I believe that Harry's appearance would start to change. I can already see the slight changes in his demeanor. We have to cast some spells on him to ensure that the rapidness of his changes is heightened to the point of its climax."

"Harry, do you understand what this means? There is no other choice. You cannot return to Hogwarts as Harry James Potter, no charm in this world, nor any potion at that matter, will be strong enough to conceal you with sufficiency. You will have to return to Hogwarts for your sixth year as a different person- as Severus's son."

-

Harry did not know what to think. There was a small envelope in his hand. Professor Dumbledore had thrust it between his fingers before he even had a chance to think and had told him, in a kind firm voice, to stay in the room until Professor Snape calmed down.

Snape had just stomped of the room after that, his fury emanating from him in tangible waves, and he had slammed the door so hard it rattled. He too had something within his palm, his letter, the one written to him. Snape had not bothered to reply to Dumbledore's statement. Instead, he had just left, wordless, and Dumbledore had followed after him, but not after he told Harry to stay and be a good boy.

_Eek, _Harry thought.

Harry was in a current state of disbelief, bothering on apathy. He did not know what to feel. He did not really believe what the letter said, creed or not, or maybe he was just deluding himself to believe that way. Perhaps he should be rolling over in anger by now, or at least stomping around the room yelling obscene vulgarities, but the truth was, he just felt hollow. He simply did not react because he did not know how.

Unless there was such a book of course- '_How to react when you find that your entire life has been one entire lie.'_

He could even see the bloody options in the book.

_One, you could become so angry, you commit some form of accidental magic that shatters every single glass ornament or window within the vicinity, and your mentors will come rushing to find you, only to see your body slumped on the floor with glass smithereens sticking out of it. (This option is preferable for those with a healthy supply of power because accidental magic, especially those governed by emotions, does not come easily.)_

_Two, you could become so sad, you'll cry for days at the end. You will lock the door and refuse to eat, drink or sleep, or let anyone in for that matter. Your friends/teachers/everyone will stand for hours outside your door, knocking on it and begging you to come out. You will ignore them. (This method is preferable for angst ridden teenagers with the affinity for dramatics.)_

_Three, you could be happy. Dance around the room and skip through the corridors for the next few days, singing at the top of your lungs. Ensure that everyone can hear you and that the next-door neighbours bang on your door that night to ask you to shut up. Keep smiling the whole day and spread your happiness. (This is perfect for those who possess the irritating ability to be perpetually optimistic, happy and cheery. Not good for you if you're moody, angst-ridden or hormonal.)_

Harry snorted.

He sat down on the chair. His mind was whirling too furiously for him to think, and all he could hear was the words of Professor Dumbledore, and the echoing chant, a mantra in his head- 'He's your father, he's your father.'

He took the envelope and ripped it open without care. He knew that he should be careful, Professor Dumbledore had provided him with a letter opener, (a letter opener for Merlin's sake!) but Harry did not have the patience. His fingers shaking, he unfolded the parchment. The text was like little ants that rolled across the material, small, tiny and concise. It was his father's script, he realised.

_My dearest Harry,_

_You must know the truth by now. Our darkest secret, Lily and I- your heritage, your true father… and we dreaded the day that it would be discovered, I more than you, for I know, the day that you find out the truth, you will no longer be mine, and Severus will claim part of you._

_Please do not blame Severus. Severus is a death eater, I'm sure you should know that, but he is a spy for Dumbledore, and has done the Order numerous services, all of which have aided us greatly, and he has saved our lives countless times. It was Severus who warned us of the danger that we were in, and it was Severus to which we owe our lives- and yours._

_He does not know. Lily never told him, she feared that he would take you away from her, and loathe as she is to admit it, I know she fears Severus._

_Severus is not a man to trifle with, Harry, and you have to be careful of him. He is a very powerful wizard and when he entered Hogwarts in his first year, he already knew more Dark Arts spells than all of the seventh year students combined. He is a professional dueler, and is dangerous with a wand. Worse still, Severus is a man who is governed by his emotions. He tries badly to hide this, but he cannot. It is a part of him and it makes him who he is._

_Everything he has done in life has been based on his strongest emotions- hatred, jealousy and his search for vengeance. _

_Don't hate him, but try and get to know him. Severus, for all his flaws, is a good person essentially, and his conversion from dark to light have proven this. He does not take to Gryffindors very well, and he is biased, but to those he cares about he is protective. He is also a brilliant Potions master. I don't know if you know this, but he recently joined the Mastery Potions League, which is a league for the world's top Potion brewers. This makes him the youngest person ever to join. He is also the creator of a few potions- Wolfsbane is one of them. I am sure you have heard of it. _

_I must sound like I'm trying to sell him to you. In truth, this is not the case, all I am trying to tell you is that you must look at him from a different light. I heard that he is going to be teaching at Hogwarts, and I know that he must hate you for being my son, but all I can say is- give him a chance. Get to know him better._

_I'm writing this now, staring at you, and Merlin Harry, you are such were such a cute baby. You must have all the girls falling over you- and I won't be there to see it._

_The war has taken away nearly everything from me, but Voldemort will never take Lily and you from me while there is breath in my body._

_There is a limit to letters- I sound so dead somber, Sirius will be laugh till he pee in his pants- I have to stop, but before I do, I need to ask you of a favour._

_A few years ago, I did something unforgivable to Severus. I know he will never forgive me because of this. It was after Lily broke up with Severus. I was so angry, I took something from him. It was not very expensive, but I know it means a lot to him. I took a necklace, a silver chained necklace that Lily gave to him. There is a pendant- a matching silver lily- on the chain. I gave it to Sirius for safe-keeping, and a few months ago, I tried to get it back, to return it._

_Sirius is a stubborn and reckless person and not very forgiving either. He would not give it to me, and no matter how hard I tried, all he would say is that he was keeping it safe. _

_If I die without returning the necklace to Severus, it would be a guilt I will carry into my grave. I regret taking it away; I know that it caused unimaginable hurt to Severus._

_If you can, get the necklace back and return it to Severus. I know that Sirius would not have thrown it away._

_I end here._

_Before I do go, I will tell you one last thing, Harry._

_I love you, with all my heart, as a father loves a child, and nothing, nothing, not even your blood, will change that._

_Your father,_

_James Potter_

Harry put down the letter and began to cry.

-

Severus Snape was currently sitting in his favourite arm chair. Contrary to popular belief, his own private rooms were not in the dungeons, but rather in a spacious loft area in the higher levels of the Manor. He did enjoy the sun, occasionally, and at that point in time, he was swallowed by the cream chair with green trimmings.

_The letter cannot be true. I cannot be Potter's father. This is some cruel twist of fate, some merciless joke. _

Yet, his better senses told him that it was true, and that it was not a joke.

Severus Snape was a logical person. He was not an idealist, and he was not a person to sit around and moon over uncovered secrets. Usually, he would more likely start jotting down ways to make himself feel better (like taking points of Gryffindor House, for instance) and he would definitely seize the situation and attempt to make it favourable, to him at least.

However, this time…

_This is ridiculous. I am sitting here like some Gryffindor. I am overly emotional. _

_I refuse to believe that inane rubbish that Albus just told me. I could not have fathered Potter._

_Wait, he is not a Potter. He's a Snape._

_What am I saying? He's not a Snape! He's too Potter-ish to be a Snape!_

Severus Snape decided to stop his internal dialogue. Instead, he opened his envelope. Lily's letter… Dear Lily…

And he started to read it.

-

Professor Dumbledore stared at the pieces of paper before him. He was seeing them, but not really looking at them. The letter had taken him by surprise, and this was such an unlikely turn of events… He did not know what to do.

He rubbed his temples wearily. The war had just started, but he could already feel its toll. He felt old, he looked old, and frankly, he was old. However, there was so much more to be done, and Tom… Tom would not be easily combated.

He sighed.

How did things go so wrong?

This war was never supposed to happen. Tom Riddle was never supposed to turn dark. Tom Riddle had been his most brilliant student, the most intelligent one to ever grace the Hogwarts Halls. He was unsurpassed in terms of magic, in terms of brains, in terms of charisma, and he had been for so many years. Until now- now that Harry was here…

Harry could give Tom a good run for his money. Professor Dumbledore laughed. He loved muggle expressions.

_Oh Tom, what happened to you?_

For a few moments, Professor Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards his pensieve in a corner. He had recently added in new memories- his memories of Tom Riddle.

For those few moments, Professor Dumbledore was tempted to walk towards that corner, pick up the pensieve, and indulge in his memories but he stopped himself. There was no use going through the past like that, it would only sadden him. What had gone by had gone by, and there was no real use in feeling morose over it. Tom Riddle was lost and now, forever gone, and only Voldemort remained.

Professor Dumbledore rubbed his eyes wearily. There were Order reports to sort through. More importantly, there were the documents that Lily sent him to go through.

The top sheet was the Potter's will. Professor Dumbledore breezed through it. He smiled. At least Harry would get the money, if that was some consolation. That would also, most likely, make him heir to three powerful families.

Professor Dumbledore tried to concentrate, but he could not. He found himself continuously staring at the pensieve.

Tom Riddle had been his protégé. Not just any protégé, but his, and for those few years, Tom had been apprenticed to him. He was the one who had thought Tom everything he knew, and inadvertently, he was the one who had sent Tom down the black path. He had been close to Tom, very close.

Professor Dumbledore, once again, had to stifle the urge to look into the pensieve.

Finally, he walked out of the room. However, one thought remained on his mind.

_Harry, you once asked me why I couldn't kill Voldemort. The truth is, Harry, even if I could, I wouldn't._

_I can't kill him, Harry. I can't._

-

End of Chapter 2

-

Next up:

**Chapter 3**

**On homes**

_"This is my home. Please do not defile it."_

-

Please review!


	3. on homes

At the edge of the World

**By: Despondent**

**-**

**Chapter 3**

**On homes**

_"This is my home. Please do not defile it."_

**-**

_Severus,_

_Oh Severus. I have no idea how I am going to write this. Nothing I feel can be expressed merely by a few flicks of a quill upon parchment. I know you possess that one fervent belief in paper and pen and nothing I said could dissuade you away from that, but to be very frank, I honestly do believe that certain things just cannot be written or said; it has to be expressed. _

_So you would have known by now. Albus would have told you about the truth then. Severus, don't be angry at me. Wait, I should say, don't be angry at Harry. I know, without a doubt, that you are furious- and a lot of the anger would be at me, for keeping it a secret for so long, but please, don't let out your anger at Harry. We all know that your anger can be very destructive. _

_You must hate him. My one deepest regret is that I would not have been able to, in my lifetime, to get rid of your hatred towards James and vice versa. It is beyond me how the two most important men in my life hate each other so much. Harry is not James, which you no doubt think he is, he is your son, Severus, our son, yours and mine, the perfect combination of wit, sarcasm, intelligence, kindness and cunningness, the meld between Slytherin and Gryffindor, the combination of both traits._

_He is our son, and never forget that. If you hate him, please… please remember me, Lily, your Lily, and treat him with at least kindness and patience. I do not ask for more, I only want you to give him a chance to be your son. _

_I have no idea where Albus placed Harry. If all goes well, he would be in Sirius's care. I know you'll balk at the idea of your son being under the custody of Sirius, but James and I felt that it was all for the best. I am not insinuating that you would not be a suitable father, its just that at this point in time, in my life, your future seems rather dark, Sev, and as much as I know that you'll be a good father to Harry, safety just does not reign in your household. Forgive me for this, but you must understand that Sirius loves Harry. He would die for Harry, if nothing else. _

_I lied to you; I had to, to keep him safe. It was not easy, having a child in your womb, time-locked. There was always this weird tingling sensation in the stomach. My brain told me to abort, my heart told me to keep it, and so I did. Harry is what you can call an exceptional baby, having stayed in his mother's womb for a year odd. There is said to be some special magical aftereffects of such a baby, but I could not find any information on it._

_Oh Severus, I just realised I was rambling. I am telling you useless information that you probably don't need. I shall end soon; my fingers shake as I write this. There is so much I have to say, but yet, there is so little time._

_So many regrets… so many regrets…_

_Keep him safe, Sev, for he is ours, and love him, if you can._

_If you ever did love me… love him too. And if you still love me- _

_Rain that falls upon hardened back_

_Slithers down my crooked brow_

_Into the puddle on the floor_

_Yours, in eternity,_

_Lily_

The words were written in deep green ink, an ink that matched the colour of green eyes, and an ink that reminded Severus, so starkly of the life he could have had.

"Lily..." Severus whispered under his breath. "Dear Lily…"

-

Harry went back to Privet Drive the next morning, after snatching a few seconds of pitiful sleep. He went to bed, his brain hollow, and slipped between two chaste white sheets which felt thick and starchy against his skin. He had closed his eyes, determined to forget that night's hurried events, and especially, the words that seemed to haunt his mind.

_Snape's your father_- the words taunted, like an unbreakable mantra.

_That slimy git's your father_- the words echoed.

He had tossed and turned, his eyes shut but his mind awake, never giving him a moment of peace. Sleep had come fleetingly, scarcely, and flitted in between moments of consciousness and light slumber. The night had passed that way, a living nightmare.

He had awoken that way too, eyes rimmed by deep black eye bags, his eyes a light red, and his body aching. He felt as though he had not slept the whole night. Sighing, he reached out for his spectacles and jammed them onto his nose bridge.

He had tentatively walked out of the room. Snape had not given him any restrictions, and yet, he was unsure whether or not to leave the room. The room was a small one, very dark, with deep green walls and a matching carpet. The furniture was painfully bare, but adequate. It was a spare room, Harry realised. A room that people chucked one side and forget about.

He turned the door handle, quietly, and stepped out of the room.

The room opened into a corridor, a corridor laden with opulence and luxury, but Harry felt as though he was in a trance, and not once did he stop to stare at the grandeur. _Ron would have been green with envy_, he thought, but he did not bother about them himself. Instead, he walked one footstep by one footstep, his stride mechanical and harsh.

He entered the drawing room, which was largely empty- with the exception of a black robed figure sitting, ram-rod straight in a comfortable chair that seemed to large for his lanky frame.

"Potter," that figure snapped, "what in Merlin's name are you doing?"

It was Severus Snape, Harry realised with a pang, but that was kind of expected since it was his house after all.

"S- Professor," Harry said courteously, "I woke up and I didn't know what to do so… I left to take a walk."

"A walk Potter?" Snape asked incredulously, "A walk?"

"Yes, Professor, a walk, you know, the things you do when you're bored and you just want to stroll around…" Harry continued.

"Don't be cheeky Potter," Snape snapped again, "of course I know what a walk is, but are you sure that your Gryffindor," he slurred, "mind is not devising new ways of creating trouble?"

Harry scowled. For one second, Snape was stunned at the surprising resemblance of that scowl to his own, but then, his face turned impassive again.

"Potter, we need to set some ground rules," Snape said harshly.

"Ground rules?"

"First, you are not to leave this compound, this manor, unless you specifically ask for permission from me and I grant it. Second, you are not to enter any of my rooms and my laboratory without permission. Third, the entire basement of this house is banned from you, and in no circumstances are you to enter it. Fourth, you avoid me, and I avoid you, unless absolutely necessary."

Harry thought about the rules for awhile before nodding his head. "Agree," he said.

"And a few last things I want to clarify. Do you believe what Professor Dumbledore said?"

Harry shook his head fervently.

"Good, so do I, so let's get that clear," Snape said with a sneer.

"And Potter… this is my home. Please do not defile it."

-

That morning, Harry was sitting on the massive dining table alone, faced with a huge amount of food that he could never finish, having his breakfast when the owl came.

It was his OWLs, he realised, suddenly fearful. Hermoine had said something about results arriving at the end of July, and it was early August now. Harry gave a small smile. Hermoine must have been hysterical.

Staring at the envelope, he was seized with apprehension. This was his results, this was his future.

Harry picked up the parchment. It was made of thick, brown parchment, and on it, written in cursive words was his name. There was no address, nothing, just 'Harry James Potter'. _Odd, _he thought, _I can never remember a letter from anyone without my address._

Harry decided not to think about it, and instead, pursed his lips and ripped open the envelope without further thought. His heart was beating loudly, and as he unraveled the thick stack of parchment, which was tied with a velvet ribbon, he stared at the figures on the paper, his eyes suddenly turning blurry.

_Harry James Potter_

_Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**_ Divination-_**

_ Theory: Poor_

_ Practical: Outstanding_

_ Overall: Acceptable_

_Examiner's comments: The candidate displayed a very poor grasp of the theory of the topic. However, his practical proved otherwise, and startled me by producing an actual accurate reading. Candidate may possess some form of talent in this field, and I urge him to continue his studies. _

_ **History of Magic:**_

_ Theory: Poor_

_ Overall: Poor_

_Examiner's comments: Candidate proved totally inept in this topic, and his theory showed no evidence that he had spent five years studying this topic. Strongly recommended to drop History of Magic and switch to another course. _

_ **Astronomy**_

_ Theory: Acceptable_

_ Practical: Acceptable_

_ Overall: Acceptable_

_Examiner's comments: Candidate shows an acceptable amount of knowledge in this topic. Slight eh, disturbance, during the examination may have been the cause of his slightly below-average results._

_ **Charms-**_

_ Theory: Exceeds Expectations_

_ Practical: Outstanding_

_ Overall: Outstanding_

_Examiner's comments: A brilliant student- should continue studies in this arena. Shows talent in the practical aspect of charms, may consider deeper studies._

_ **Herbology****-**_

_ Theory: Acceptable_

_ Practical: Acceptable_

_ Overall: Acceptable_

_ Examiner's comments: Acceptable._

_ **Transfiguration-**_

_ Theory: Exceeds Expectations_

_ Practical: Exceeds Expectations_

_ Overall: Exceeds Expectations_

_ Examiner's comments: Nil-_

**_ Potions-_**

_ Theory: Exceeds Expectations_

_ Practical: Outstanding_

_ Overall: Exceeds Expectations_

_Examiner's comments: Seems to have an unusually in-depth knowledge of Polyjuice. His practical results seemed to have stunned the esteemed Severus Snape, but for Merlin's sake, I can't tell why. Candidate is a talented potions brewer. _

**_Defense against the Dark Arts-_**

_Theory: Outstanding_

_Practical: Outstanding_

_Overall: Outstanding with Merit, Recipient of DADA award_

_Examiner's comments: The most brilliant student I have ever seen in all my years of teaching. I can detect a great store of power behind the candidate's spells, and he could even possibly, surpass Albus Dumbledore in future years. I highly recommend him to continue DADA. It will be a great waste of talent if he discontinues. Also, he is the just winner of the DADA award, having scored the highest marks in the last century._

_ **Care of Magical Creatures-**_

****

****_Theory: Outstanding_

_ Practical: Outstanding_

_ Overall: Outstanding_

_ Examiner's comments- Does not seem to possess any fear._

Harry stared at the results, once again, as though he could not believe his eyes. Outstanding for Divination and some weird award for Defense- it had surpassed his own expectations.

However, exceeds expectations for Potions…

He would not be able to enter Snape's potions class then, he realised, with a slight pang. He knew that Snape did not accept any student who scored below an 'Outstanding' in the OWLs. Snape's rigid and high standards were infamous in Hogwarts, to such an extent that even the Potions Alumni knew about it. Apparently, Snape had never, not even once, ever, accepted a student lower than an Outstanding. He made no exceptions, even to his Slytherins. Even if Snape was really his father, (Harry scoffed disbelievingly,) he would not get in.

And if he did not make it to the NEWT potions class, then… he would not be able to make it into an auror. He would then subsequently, prove that Umbridge woman right, and disappoint Professor Mcgonagall.

Harry put down the paper. His heart had stopped its accelerated beating; now, he only stared at the paper blankly. _If only he had studied harder, if only he had paid more attention, if only he had not allowed his blind prejudice to overcome his better senses…_

Harry clenched his fist tighter.

Just then, the door swung open. It was Snape, and he stepped into the living room, a sneer on his face.

"So Potter," he said, "I see you have received your OWL results."

Harry sneered back suddenly. "So I have but so what?" he said rudely.

"Don't talk to me like this, Potter, I'm your… I'm your…" Snape faltered suddenly. He had taken two long strides and was now standing next to Harry, his fingers grabbing onto the sides of the table.

"Say it then, say it!" Harry taunted.

It was then when Harry realised, he believed in it.

He believed that Snape was his true biological father. It was a weird moment, a sudden moment of realisation, when you realised that all the facades you put up where just what they were- masks, masks of the truth. Harry paled.

"POTTER!" Snape bellowed suddenly.

Harry stared at him detachedly for a moment. "I'm not a Potter. I'm a Snape."

With that, he stormed out of the room, banging the door shut behind him.

-

Harry stomped down the corridor and after turning a few loose corners, finally declared himself lost. _Stupid manor,_ he thought angrily. _Why did Snape need so much space anyway? _

Harry, after turning into the same opulent corridor for the fifth time, finally gave up and sank to the ground in despair. He hated this place- and the worse thing was… Dumbledore was going to make him stay here for the rest of the holidays… if you could call it that.

He sat down there for a moment, just mooning silently to himself, wallowing in his thoughts and pity.

He could not believe that Snape was his father. It was a weird feeling. It was simply absurd- Snape and his mother? The thought alone made his stomach queasy. How could his mother ever bear Snape's presence? It was inconceivable, yet, the logical part of his mind knew that it was true. All the evidences pointed to that. The letter from his mother, Snape's anger and even grudging belief, Dumbledore's genuine shock and sorrow… He knew it was true, there was no other choice.

But he could not accept it.

Sighing, Harry got up to his feet, wanting to start his search for his room again.

"Don't go," a voice called out suddenly.

Harry whirled around frantically, half expecting to see some Snape clone staring at him. The voice had been slippery, just like Snape's and even without looking at the speaker; he knew that it had to be a relative of Snape's.

However, there was no one there, and the corridor looked the same, dark, foreboding, and dripping with silvery trappings.

"I'm up here," the voice slurred again. "Look at the wall!"

Harry turned to the origin of the voice, and there, on the wall, was a portrait. It was framed with silver, and the background of it was a dark green, nearly black, and this did not surprise Harry one bit, who snorted when he saw the choice of colours. There were engravings on the side of the portrait, but Harry, having never studied Ancient Runes, did not understand them. Instead, he stared at the person in the portrait.

It was quite evidently a Snape. The man was tall, hair lank and greasy that grazed the tops of his shoulder. His eyes, a deep black, matched that of Snape's, and they were currently fixed on his own, piercingly. The man was tall and thin, his robes draped over his bony frame, loose.

"You are Severus's son!" the man exclaimed suddenly, shocked. "You have to be… but… but… Salazar! I don't believe it."

Harry sighed. "Who are you?" he snapped, his mood sour.

The man did not reply. Instead, he stared even harder at Harry. "You have his facial structure; thank goodness you don't have his nose. And not much of a potions brewer, I can see that. Your mother… your mother must have been something."

"Yes she was," Harry said absentmindedly. "But you haven't answered me."

"I am Tenuis Snape," the man said finally, a calculating look in his eyes. "Severus's brother."

"You are Snape's brother?" Harry yelled.

"Why do you look so shocked? He must have told you. I suppose… that makes you my nephew." The man in the portrait looked vaguely amused. "Who was your mother anyway?"

"Lily… Lily Potter," Harry said finally.

"He married her?" Tenuis Snape looked shocked. "He married the mudblood?"

Harry stared at the portrait furiously, whipping out his wand, and he was just about to scream out some curse before the portrait stopped him.

"Wait! I apologise," Tenuis said hurriedly, "it's a habit I can't seem to kick. Not that I have something against muggle-borns, of course," he continued, "it's just that well, with Severus and my parents, and about the whole of Slytherin, it's hard not to use it."

Harry lowered his wand haltingly. "I suppose you were a death eater too," he sneered suddenly.

"NO!" Tenuis roared, furious. "Don't you DARE say that of me…"

"I… I…"

"NEVER ASSOCIATE ME WITH THEM!" Tenuis continued.

Harry did not reply. Snape's brother was not a death eater?

"I hate people who do that, associating all Slytherins with being death eaters," Tenuis said, "it's nauseating."

Harry felt himself reddening. "I'm sorry," he said finally, "it's just that I've had a really bad day."

"I can see that," Tenuis continued. There was a silence that followed, a tentative silence, and finally Harry broke it.

"You knew my mother?"

Tenuis laughed. "Who didn't? She was the belle of Hogwarts at that time, everyone knew her, and even us Slytherins respected her, muggle born or not. I'm just surprised Severus got together with her in the end."

"He didn't," Harry said softly.

Tenuis did not reply. Instead, he just stared at Harry with his penetrating eyes. "You don't like him," he said suddenly, abruptly.

"It's hard to like someone who hates you," Harry said bitterly.

Tenuis did not reply. Instead, he just looked away, his eyes flickering to the top of the ceiling. "Don't worry," he said finally, "Severus… Severus isn't too bad. He just had a bad childhood, and that really affected him. If… if he ever tells about it… then maybe you'll understand."

Suddenly, Tenuis stared back into Harry's eyes, and disappeared.

Harry was left staring at the empty portrait, Tenuis's words echoing in his mind.

-

End of Chapter 3

-

Next up:

**Chapter 4**

**On relationships**

_"We have to talk."_

-


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